


New Year, New World Order

by Ravenclaw_Cait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Character Death, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger-centric, Out of Character Hermione Granger, Past Character Death, Podcast: Fanatical Fics and Where to Find Them, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28709088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw_Cait/pseuds/Ravenclaw_Cait
Summary: Hermione is rebuilding the world in the aftermath of the war, with familiar faces beside her helping her bring her beautiful and terrible vision to life.Written for Fanatical Fics New Years CompetitionWord max: 1500Character: A member of the OrderItem: Fish
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	New Year, New World Order

Hermione smiled into the ornate mirror that sat before her on the vanity, appreciating the sun dapples on her skin before standing and making her way towards the heavy door to the gardens of the Manor. The door swung open at her wandless command, and her bare feet made almost no sound on the cool marble tiles of the veranda as she moved towards the solitary figure standing at the edge of the pool in the distance.

She mused over the events that lay ahead, namely her coronation and the installation of her handpicked cabinet. Ron, Draco, Blaise, Charlie, Bill, she ticked off names on her long slender fingers as the terrain shifted from cold stone to soft, sun kissed greenery and she took the final steps to the pool. Turning at the sound of her arrival, the long haired man smiled a devilish grin and wiped his hands on one of the many towels that littered the poolside. He encircled her wrists in his large hands, and manoeuvred her small, slight body against his, pressing his lips gently, reverently against her mouth.

She thanked the Gods he had survived the war, never more than now as she felt rather than saw his arms release her wrists, entwining around her waist, revelling in the sensation of cool silk against hard muscles as he held her. She rested her head against his, tracing the patterns of the tattoos on his chest, “Sirius” she murmured into his ear, feeling his rumbling growl, “Yes, my love?”.

“Is everything ready?” she whispered, and Sirius let out a harsh barking laugh, “As if you would have allowed it to be any other way”. Her laughter joined his, and he deftly untied her silk gown worrying his lip between his teeth as he drank in the facets of her naked body. Their eyes met, the heat between them becoming palpable, but Hermione could not, would not, get distracted and she broke away, slipping into the pool aware of his eyes boring into her with every swaying step she took. She shivered as she felt the warm blood swirling around her ankles, each step deeper creating ripples and currents in the unctuous red fluid as she entered.

The Malfoy’s knew what they were doing with architecture she mused, as she sat on the built in shelf and rested her head back on the edge of the tiles, sighing as Sirius’ strong fingers kneaded tension out of her shoulders. This was not the outcome she had expected. But Harry had fallen at the final battle, leaving Hermione broken. Neville, dear sweet Neville had stayed true to his Gryffindor core and managed to defeat the Dark Lord in Harry’s stead, but that had claimed his life in grim, bloody finality, and in that moment something inside Hermione had shattered.

The entire wizarding world had turned to her, a seventeen year old, and expected her to somehow have the capability to right every wrong, and rebuild a world from the ashes of one she had barely had time to know. That breaking had been irreparable, and in the scorching fires of sorrow, grief, and loss, something dark had grown within her. A desire for blood, for vengeance, for punitive justice, and from this burning had emerged a Hermione nobody had foreseen. Her fragmented pieces had come together like a mosaic, and indeed she kept the full extent of them from everyone but her Chosen. Together, they had formed plans to start anew in an unforgiving world forged of fire and ice, and Sirius, her Sirius, stood beside her as they began.

Sirius’ hands slipped down her shoulders, cupping her breasts in his calloused hands and whispering encouragement in her ear as mewling sounds slipped from between her lips. He spoke of their triumph, of his Queen, of their power and strength and she succumbed to his words and ministrations with sighs of contentment and arousal. He knew better than anyone what she had endured and who she had become. His own sanity had barely clung on to a gossamer thread after Azkaban, but seeing Harry and Remus killed in the final battle had felled what remained of his humanity in an instant. In the aftermath of battle, he had found her alone, broken, bleeding, and screaming, and he had seen himself in her. He knew how it felt to lose everything, to carry a heavy burden - his as the last Scion of House Black - and in the blazing rubble of Hogwarts he had simply curled his form around hers and held her close as she sobbed out what remained of her innocence and fragility.

They had woken the next day and he had seen her change before his eyes, quiet determination giving way to blazing fury and a merciless pursuit of retribution. He had expected others to see it too, to perhaps reach out to the pair and find a way to help, but instead they had been offered nothing but power. Unlimited, unchecked power, with the entire world deferring to that beautiful, broken girl. And he had simply grinned, and taken her hand, and stepped into her new world as Prince Consort, her devoted lover and most fervent supplicant.

Hermione shivered as Sirius’s thumbs grazed her nipples, but both their heads jerked up as hurried footsteps approached them, and they saw the long, lithe figure of Draco Malfoy moving towards them. Draco had offered them full use of the manor as their hub of activity, and had quickly become one of Hermione’s most trusted advisors and confidants. The Death Eater Purge had been his idea, and as the new Minister For Magic, his Queen would bring it into law tomorrow following the coronation. He averted his eyes from Hermione as she stepped out of the large tub, and casted a silent warming charm over the amphorae that were lined up beside the banks of the river close by.

Sirius shot him a nod of thanks, as Hermione padded over, leaving crimson footprints on the brilliant white stone. She could not remember when she had first bathed in blood, but it had become part of her ritual before crucial moments in her ascension to ultimate power. Sirius poured jug after jug of warm water over her sensitive skin, sluicing the blood from her into the undulating current of the river, watching absent-mindedly as small silvery fish appeared, to taste the new addition to their environment.

“Everything is ready for tomorrow,” Draco drawled, “The execution site has been constructed, and we will announce the Purge after the coronation”. Hermione laughed, without mirth, “Excellent, you’ve done well Draco, I have utmost faith in you as always”. Draco had been the master architect, proposing that for each death eater (or sympathiser) caught, their public execution magically broadcast for the entire wizarding population to see. A reminder, a chilling warning, that anything other than full adherence to the New World Order would not be tolerated, and any proponents of the old regime would be dispatched swiftly, and without mercy. Hermione was not the brightest witch of her age for nothing, and she and Malfoy had spent many nights together, constructing this punitive justice system, and all would be unveiled by her Cabinet tomorrow.

Draco stepped forward and took her hand, “Your Majesty the wards prepared, it’s time.” Hermione proffered her hand to Draco, allowing him to step up to left side as Sirius flanked her on her right. One final act of blood magic, and this marriage tonight between her and Sirius would seal the bond, seal their power, and bring her ministrations to fruition. Newly minted ministers and courtiers gave way to her in deference as she stepped from the gardens into the wood panelled room before her.

She could feel the magic in the room singing to that within her, and she raised a curious eyebrow at the prone figure on the dais in the centre of the room. She looked and saw Ron waiting beside the body with a silver dagger on a velvet cushion and once again she shrugged off her robe and stepped into the light under the oculus in the room. Sirius and Draco closed the circle, and the figures surrounding the stone altar began softly chanting, as the girl on the alter struggled against her bonds.

Hermione briefly caressed Ron’s cheek, and lifted the dagger climbing the steps until she was standing over the form. The chanting grew louder, and the incantation swirled around the room, as Hermione looked down into the terrified and pleading eyes of Ginny Weasley. “My my,” purred Hermione, “dissension in the ranks. How convenient that your pure blood is exactly what we needed. You don’t need to die, no just a drop will do, but under the circumstances…”.

A flash like lightning ran through Hermione’s eyes, and a sickening grin spread across her face, as she stood and struck like a snake, driving the dagger into Ginny’s chest.


End file.
